


Against the Wall

by LadyStrangeandUnusual (Dream_Wreaver)



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Based on a drawing, Consensual Sex, F/M, Friend Art Inspires Me, Musicalbabes, My Muse is a Generous One, Wall Sex, beetlebabes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 22:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/LadyStrangeandUnusual
Summary: Disappointed by some less than picturesque pictures Beetlejuice decides to help Lydia out
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 152





	Against the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> So I just wanna say a big thank you to an art friend for inspiring this piece. I love you boo! Hope you enjoy!

Lydia Deetz was a strange and unusual girl. And because of that, she had strange and unusual predilections. Weird people tended to gravitate towards other weird people, because they understood or at the very least empathized with each other. It was probably the same reason why when Beetlejuice had been brought back on his ear a week after leaving she’d been fine with learning that the marriage ceremony had done more than bring him to life. Someone dead marrying the living bound their fates together, for all eternity. Miss Argentina had explained as much, much to the shock and horror of all other parties present in the room.

Lydia hadn’t been as phazed, she’d kind of been missing the big buggy pervert. For three glorious days, they had been best friends without a care in the world. And if he’d not done what he’d done he would have kept being there. And she would have started a new family with him and her mother. Even as terrible as what he’d done had been though, he’d managed to accomplish the one thing Lydia had by then given up hope on, getting her dad to see her, getting him to talk with her about everything. A part of her had honestly felt guilty at tricking him but she’d seen no other way to get rid of him, and no way that anyone in that house would be okay with him just hanging around otherwise. So when Miss Argentina had brought him back saying that he was now Lydia’s responsibility, Lydia hadn’t been too upset with that. She’d forgiven him, understanding that had she been in his position she might have done anything in her power to escape Juno too. And he’d greeted her like a dog greeted its thought to be lost master.

They’d been nigh inseparable ever since. And naturally, that had developed into an interesting relationship once Lydia decided she was in fact interested in sex and dating. But not with any normal boys or girls, no. Lydia was strange, and she found her tastes skewed similarly. It had started with a bet. A bet where she claimed Beetlejuice was too chicken shit to ever make a move on her. He’d proven her plenty wrong that night. And what had started out as fairly innocent make out sessions had turned into them dating and having sex fairly quickly. But it was hard to quit something so addicting. Beetlejuice had been around the block more than a few times, which meant he was always down to help Lydia indulge her own curiosity. And he never judged her for exploring what she might be into. It was certainly encouraging.

This evening, Beetlejuice had been lounging around in Lydia’s room while she worked on developing some photographs she’d taken of him for practice. But, as she might have expected, taking photographs of the dead was very much like restoring. As in, it was incredibly difficult and frustrating to get the desired results. And, because Lydia preferred old fashioned development photography, relatively expensive as well. Lydia returned to her room with the relatively useless photos and saw Beetlejuice’s face light up.

“Babes!” He exclaimed, “Well, don't keep me hanging, how'd they come out?”

Lydia sighed, turning away as she fanned out the photos like playing cards. “Not so good,” she admitted.

“What?” Beetlejuice asked, coming to stand behind her so he could peer over her shoulder, “Whaddaya mean not so good? You're the greatest damn photographer I've ever met!”

“Yeah, well,” Lydia shrugged, frowning as she looked at her images, “None of these came out. You're just a glowing ball…” she held the photos up so he could see them better and sure enough, she was right. He really was nothing more than a signature of spectral energy. Damn it.

And then, an idea began to form. Lydia had allowed him to play around with her camera every now and then. But every time the subject of his photos was his little mortal bride. And he was interested in seeing how far she would go with a lens in his hands.

“Well maybe,” Beetlejuice began, smarmy smirk stretching across his face, “We should just take more pictures of _ you _ then,”

Lydia glances over her shoulder, noticed his expression and matched it with a knowing smirk of her own, “Sure,” she said as she let the photos drop to the floor and removed the camera and it's strap from her person. She handed it to him, “Go crazy,”

“Not a long trip to make,” Beetlejuice quipped, taking the camera and gingerly slinging it around his own neck. He knew how very precious the device was to Lydia, a present from her dearly departed mother. And breaking it would put her in a mood counter to the one he wanted to create.

“So Mister Photographer,” Lydia began, “How do you want me?”

Part of him was sorely tempted to say wet and willing, but they would get there. No need to rush. In the mean time, Beetlejuice pondered her question seriously. Finally, he replied, “Stand over there,” he pointed to a small section of her room that hadn’t been decorated over. But it really didn’t work for him. He tried several other spots, but nothing was good enough for a photograph. Not when Lydia would complain about film later on.

“Is that spare room still empty?” Beetlejuice asked after about ten minutes.

“Yeah, why?”

“This…” he thought for a moment, “Lighting. The lighting isn’t working for me is all.”

Lydia smirked, seemed he _ had _ been paying attention after all, “Alright, let’s head to the spare room.”

The spare room had formerly been Delia’s room before she’d married Lydia’s father. They mostly used it for the storage now. But the others decided it would be nice to have a room for the occasional guest they may have had now and then. So it was in the process of sitting empty while Delia tried her hand yet again at interior design and Adam, Barbara, and her father tried to reign in the woman’s more eccentric tastes. It really wouldn’t do to have one room so drastically different from the modernist country style they’d managed to settle on. But for now, it would do perfectly for an impromptu photo session set. The walls were stripped to a neutral bluish gray, which offset Lydia’s coloring well, made her pop without washing her out. And yet, Beetlejuice stared at her as she made several poses through the lens and then lowered her camera, still dissatisfied.

“What’s wrong Beej?” Lydia asked as she noticed his dejected expression.

“I’m trying baby, really I am,” Beetlejuice sighed, “And it’s not that you ain’t gorgeous enough for photos, ‘cause we both know that ain’t even a _ good _ lie. But every time I try to take the picture something just…” he shrugged, “Feels like somethin’s missin’.”

“Hmm…” Lydia put her finger to her lip in thought, unknowing that Beetlejuice was watching her. His mind went blank as he saw the digit being tapped against those luscious lips and before he’d realized it,

Click.

They paused. Beetlejuice hadn’t even realized he’d had his finger on the button. But he’d taken a photo of her, in a relatively tame but no less suggestive position. And then, Lydia’s eyes lit up.

“Wait here,” she told him, “I’ll be right back,”

So he stayed, and he waited. He fiddled a little with the controls on the camera, careful of how much he fiddled because he knew Lydia was very particular about the settings. She was taking a while, he wondered what she was doing. No, wait, that was a bad course of thought to follow, he knew what his mind wanted to tell him she was doing. If she came back in to find him all hot and bothered it wouldn’t end well until much, much later.

The door clicked and creaked as it opened softly. Beetlejuice looked up to see Lydia returning, this time in a long silk robe that Delia had gotten her as birthday present. Black like her hair, and her soul Lydia had joked. And… wait, had she put some makeup on? Beetlejuice wasn’t good at noticing unless it was super obvious, but he could have sworn her eyes weren’t that big looking before she’d left.

“So Beej,” she asked, standing by a wall, “Are you ready?”

“Uh… sure Lyds, whenever you are,”

Her smile was somehow a blend of cocky and seductive, “Well then,” she said as she put her hands to her belt and began to untie it, “It’s showtime,”

The silk puddled to the ground like ink spattering across a page. And Beetlejuice’s jaw _ dropped_. Lingerie. Lydia was in fucking _ black lingerie_. Bra, thong, and fishnet stockings with _ garters_.

“So,” Lydia began as though she hadn’t just made a blatant attempt to short circuit his already malfunctioning brain, “Where do you want me?”

He wanted so desperately to respond, “On your knees,” and only _ barely _ managed to restrain himself. They would get there, eventually. Instead he replied, “Up against the wall if you don’t mind.”

Lydia let out a little giggle, “Sure thing,”

And then she struck a pose, stretching to accentuate every curve of her body in the skimpy scraps of cloth. Beetlejuice, enamored and wanting to capture the moments for when he was alone while she had to attend to breather responsibilities leered at her through the camera lens. Click, whirr, the shutter opened and closed, forever imprinting the images of Lydia cycling through various sexy poses as she taunted her demonic boyfriend. But the worst was probably the last post she did. And this was after a slew of photos of her running her hands through hair, along her body, squeezing, teasing, and groping herself for his viewing pleasure. This one was perhaps, a bit more tame by comparison but it broke the last remaining scrap of his tenuous shred of sanity. She was leaned in close, right arm propping up her chest and squeezing it together; and the back of her left hand was caressing the side of her face, her ring finger lingering near her opened mouth. The thing was, she was wearing his ring. The ring that she’d taken off as a sign they weren’t like that. But now, apparently, they were. And she was letting the large stone near her lips, tongue flicking out and curling lightly around the ice and the black metal band that adorned her delicate finger. And he lost all control. He knew what she was saying by making that pose, that expression, performing that action with _ his ring_.

Without another word Beetlejuice silently poofed the camera back to Lydia’s room where it couldn’t be damaged by what was assuredly about to go down. Then he strode to her and forced her back until she was pinned against the wall. Beetlejuice began to nibble at her neck, hands running along her body and reaching for the scraps of clothing, peeling them away from her form as she divested him of his own coverings. When he was as naked as she was he curled himself around her, kissing along her neck as she arched and stretched against him. His hands swept over her beautiful, gorgeous, desirous form, fastening themselves over her hips. That cradle of goddamn heaven between her legs just within reach. Her hips bucked briefly as he brushed against her curls.

“Mm,” she hummed lowly, undulating her body like waves, “more,”

“Whatever you want baby,” he purred into her ear, taking a soft nibble before moving to her lips.

His fingers delved into her, feeling the heat and collecting moisture drip from her core. Lydia was always ready when it came to him. But he wanted to make sure she would be nice and loose. They both got more out of the experience that way.

And so he pushed, lightly, first with a single finger. Then two. In, out, in rhythmic fashion, matching the movements of his wrist to the cadence of her hips. Her hands twined around him, tangling in his hair as she broke their kisses for desperate breaths of air only to dive right back in. When he felt the strength in her legs beginning to fade he knew she was almost there. Beetlejuice pressed her further against the wall, making sure she had something to support her.

Lydia gasped and threw her head back to bear her neck. An open invitation for more hickeys. He'd give her a damn necklace of bruises along that pretty little collarbone of that was what she wanted. Her nails dug into his scalp and he saw what she wanted. Instantly he moved his mouth further south; free hand groping at one breast while his tongue laved at the hardened peak of another. Much like him, Lydia had sensitive nipples. And she loved it when he lavished some attention on them. Beetlejuice gently suckled as her hands released him to stretch high above her head, hips rocking in time with his fingers. She was close, he could feel it, as finely tuned to the responses of her body as she was to the presence of the dead.

“Oh,” she moaned softly, “Yes, right there. Ah! Beetlejuice!”

And with a shudder she was pushed off that edge. Lydia came, and came apart in his arms. He let go and kissed his way back up her sternum, finally reclaiming her lips as he helped her ride out the waves of her pleasure. Once she was nice and juiced (a thought that caused a filthy smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth) he hoisted her up and braces her back against the wall.

“You ready Lydia?” He asked her, making sure her legs were spread and able to anchor themselves around his waist. She was a tiny thing, and her leg span wasn't as long as his own.

“Yeah,” she panted, “Just… go slow, okay Bug?”

Bug was a nickname she used for him when she was feeling particularly affectionate. And all it made him want to do was fuck her so hard and thoroughly no one would ever doubt that fact that she was well and truly spoken for.

Beetlejuice slowly eased his way inside her, aided by the remnants of her first orgasm. She was a tight fit, as always, but only tight enough to provide the right kind of friction as he moved inside and against her. Lydia arched against the wall, angling her hips in such a way that seated him further within her. One hand clutched tightly to his forearm while the other smacked itself against the wall. She gasped for breath, inhaling as though it was the first time all over again. Well, in a manner of speaking that was correct. It was the first time they'd ever done it in this position at any rate.

“Ah-n!” She moaned, low and breathy. He was all the way in now, hips settled flush against her pelvis.

Beetlejuice grunted low in his throat. God she was tight. So damn tight, and hot, and wet, and wonderful. He clutched at her hips and held them tight as he slowly began to withdraw. Her nails dug themselves into his flesh and the innermost part of her resisted his retreat. When nothing but the tip of him remained clutched by her body he moved himself back in. Out slow, and in with force. Not rough, exactly, but not gentle either. Her thighs were spread wide even as her legs crossed and tightened behind his back, clinging his waist to keep him from going anywhere. But going places was half the fun.

One of Lydia’s hands reached to toy with her breast as he continued his ministrations. But it wasn't enough. Putting her faith in the wall and the strength of her lover, Lydia released her grip on him to snake the other hand down between them. She played with her clit, fingers sliding against his shaft as he worked himself in and out of her. The extra sensation was going to his head, he could feel his strength fading, his stamina wearing thin. But damn it if he was going to come first, she’d never let him die it down.

The benefit to being an unholy abomination was that he had plenty of magic to use and abuse in all sorts of entertaining ways. Mostly though, he used it to show off, in the bedroom and out. So he began dragging his fingers along Lydia’s skin, sending tingles of power beyond mortal comprehension trailing in his wake, spreading heat that was not her own thrumming along her skin. The kind of heat that burned so hot it was almost cold, that fried nerve endings and yet felt so good at the same time. Lydia thrashed and writhed as her pleasure built to fever pitch. Inhuman sounds escaped her throat as she tried and failed to make words. Which was both a good and a bad thing. Good because he knew he was driving her to depths of pleasure past the points of coherency and sanity. Bad because she was tightening like a vise wound him, and the lack of an ability to make words would lead to only one end result. If there was one thing Beetlejuice knew would surely set him off, it was the beautiful sound of a scream. One thing he had learned since getting involved with his little cursed bride, was that Lydia was a bit of a screamer. Not all the time thank god, that would have been severely emasculating. But if he managed to hit that sweet spot at just the right time… and _ there_. He felt it. Felt the way her body tensed up, felt the sharp intake of breath as she let out a pitched, drawn out scream of pleasure as she exploded into a million pieces around and under him. The clenching of her muscles as she went taut like a bad case of rigor mortis around him and the sound of uproarious pleasure was too much, just too much to handle. And he followed her into the bliss of oblivion shortly thereafter.

When he came to, he found himself stiff and Lydia still pinned by him. She was still breathing, which was good, he'd hated to have killed her but hell what a funny way to go. Lydia was panting and gasping and clutching him tightly to her. Beetlejuice didn't know at what point he’d surged into her arms to clasp her as tightly to him as he was to her, but he wasn't about to complain. The return of lucidity reminded him he'd lost all strength in his legs, and keeping a tight grip on his bride he slowly lowered them both to the floor. With great reluctance Beetlejuice withdrew from her, but settled against the wall next to her and placed her in his lap. Lydia slumped against him, head pillowed against his shoulder and a hand drawing aimless circles on his chest and hands running and lightly tangling in the scant chest hairs that decorated his torso. For his part, Beetlejuice curled his arms loosely around her waist, the hand at her him making tiny circles with his thumb.

They sat there for a while, not speaking, just breathing. Well, in Lydia’s case at any rate. Beetlejuice was content to just act as her pillow any day of the week. Eventually, Lydia let out a long sigh of contentment and looked up at him. He looked down and she pressed a kiss at the corner of his jaw. Beetlejuice couldn't help the genuine smile that tugged at his mouth,

“So,” he began, “What did you think?”

“Strange,” Lydia replied, “and unusual. Just the way I like them.”

And then she began peppering kisses along his jaw, teasing little pecks she knew would get to him until he leaned down and kissed her fully. Her mouth was always so hot, at least in comparison to his. So anytime he got the wonderful opportunity to stick his tongue down her throat he relished it. Being that he was a demon, and not a normal mortal man, his refractory period was almost nonexistent, and he could already feel the stirrings more further lust rousing him for another round. Lydia twisted in his arms, until she was seated on him with he legs spread over his lap. The only downside was that he wasn't inside her, yet.

“So…” Lydia began as she braved her knees against the floor, feeling his arousal chilled and insistent nudging at her thighs. She lowered her hips just enough to let his tip receive a kiss (in a manner of speaking) and added,“How about we try that again?”

One of the many, many things he loved about Lydia was that when she was well pleasured once, she could be as insatiable as him. Beetlejuice nodded eagerly and tightened his hold on her hips.

“Oh hell yeah,” he agreed, “You ready baby?”

Lydia smirked and thrust down on him, impaling herself on his baser desires. With a happy and lusty cross between a gasp and a moan she answered him, “Oh Beetlejuice,” she whispered hotly in his ear, “It’s _ showtime _.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you guys thought. Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you all next time fellow Netherlings!


End file.
